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Boss Of....

Well, not carbs, that's for sure. I'm back on my stupid diet and I stupid hate not having any stupid delicious stupid carbs. I dream of things carbariffic! B reminded me last night about the chocolate smokes chocsmokes.jpg he found IN THE HOSPITAL GIFT SHOP while I was in labor with Sir Spike. And for a moment I thought... yeah, I could go one of them. Horrible, chalky, poor excuse for chocolate, chocolates. Chocolate cigarettes, in a cigarette pack displayed at kid height in a major metropolitan public hospital. If you're looking for the gift shop, by the way it's juuuust around the corner from where the people have their chemotherapy.

B bought them back upstairs to the labor ward and we laughed... hee hee hee haaaaaaa - deep cleansing breath and relax. But our midwife just about had a prize dairy cow named, Susanna Lee. "Baby's First Smokes", I said. She snatched them from my hand, studying them intensely. "They do NOT say that!" heh No, they didn't. But it would have been fit-pitching gorgeous if they had She vowed to have them removed by the next day and low n behold - when B went back to buy another pack the day after our son was born, they were no longer in stock. The Wizz Fizz, with Share-Me-AIDS-Syringe dip stick was still there though. I guess the infirm love their Wizz Fizz and even a zealous (and thoroughly wonderful) midwife can't control that. that Wizz Fizz, that's a hard one to kick.

This week really has just been a meandering piss-off of all the things I've already whinged about. Health Insurance. Tax. The weather! Carbs. Grrr. So bugger that.

On the plus side, I did get my eyebrows waxed today. "Hi. Long time so see. You want mani/pedi today?" I did want a mani/pedi but Spike has been a little fine, fine, fine NOT FINE. It's startling when you get to the latter so I wanted to be around him to encourage more of the former. "No, just tame the thicket please." I love the little Shoppe de Beaute around the corner. The girls are Vietnamese (my favourite ese) and they have a lovely grasp of the absurd. Last year before we left for Australia I waddled in to have the brows pruned (it's $7 takes 5 mins and she gives a lovely arch without all the tedious pluck pluck pluck) and a mani/pedi. Partly because I thought when will I have time again? (It's March and still no time) and partly because I could no longer reliably see my pedis for the application of polish. suzme1.jpg I have learned to choose my polish colour carefully. The first time I went there with my pal Susan (pictured over there) I chose the Pillar Box red for the toes and settled on a simple French Manicure... When I left, I had Pillar Box red toes and what can only be described as and is still referred to - to this day, a Pennsylvania Dutch Manicure. Odd pink nail beds with a WhiteOut/Tippex half moon shaped fingernail. It was the oddest/ugliest thing I'd ever seen. I had marionette hands. Ewww!!!

So back to August. I'm perched there, 7 months pregnant, newly plucked eyebrows and a bottle of Jet Black nail polish for my toes. She's jabbering away - mainly to her friend in Vietnamese interjecting in broken English, "You sure you're only 7 month?" She gets to my hands, which have been soaking and says, "What colour you want?" I point to the black. "Top 'n tail me, Mrs." She laughed and reached for the Pale Peach. "No, I'll have the black." She reached for my hand as she untwisted the top of the orangey muck in her hands. "You so funny." "No, I really will have the black." She stopped, looked at her friend. They exchanged a rapid fire conversation. "Really?" said the other one. "Uh huh." I said. They looked at one another, leaned forward conspiratorially and my girl finally said. "Oh no. What happen?" I'm still not sure what they thought had happened but they wordlessly gave me matching black talons and sent me on my way. $20 for the lot. I really will have to make time to get that mani/pedi soon. You know, before the moon rises three times... bwahahahahaaaa

That's about it Sports fans. What's happening with the swimming? I love to watch it but of course, it's not on over here. Have there been ANY protests about the building and filling of the Olympic sized pools in the middle of the worst drought in history? I guess, so long as we're winning gold - who gives a flying belly whacker, eh?!

Til next time.

Her Dry Royally Highness. xxxx

PS For those who have asked - I don't know where my Herald Sun article went! I do know where the cash went (and fast) so I thank them dearly as I prepare another column of equally impressive enough to pay for but perhaps not to publish collection of words. I'll post it here some day. They only hold the articles for 28 days then it's considered back on the market. My column, the ugly freckled step child. Huzzah! Have a great April, kids. (And you can check out Spike news on his blog.)


PPS - If you can and you aren't already. Watch Clatterford. There are simply not enough funny, odd looking women on television beautifully underplaying real inviting characters. That Jennifer Saunders should be Knighted, Earled and Kinged!

What to read, what to read...

Tell Us: Which is your favorite Ashlee Simpson cover? Ooh, how to choose?
Take our "Perfect Boyfriend" survey? Where IS my pen?
Share your bridesmaid horror story. You could win $200! From which wedding?!

Suddenly my magazines bylines have taken a turn.

Relax Mom, 10 Things You're Doing Right.
F&#K off!
How To Get Your Pediatrician To Listen? How do I get an appointment first?
Cool New Highchairs, Bibs, Sippies and Dishes. Oh fercrissakes...

Ooh! Is $600 too much for a high chair?


Well, I guess not. Not when you've paid $6000 for your crib.

All equally as stupid really. All there in black and white (and chartreuse and peach - this season's what's hot colours) to remind me how inadequate I could be, if I gave a shit. Gone are the tortured days of Cosmo and Cleo, and velcommen are the days of Spike-puke-covered American Baby and Parents Magazine. (Get both for $21 a year. A massive saving of $46. Send in your payment before April 30th and receive a free tote!)

But page after mind numbing page of, "One of the many joys of being a parent is smiling into your baby's eyes and making 'baby talk'," is really taking it's toll on this l'il red duck. So the baby mags are out. Cosmo has been out since my teens, and the online version this month reminds me why: "Say buh-bye to frizz, flatness, and flyaways. These tools make it easy to get gorgeous hair without hightailing it to the salon." Never has something been more helpful. A step-by-step magazine article about how to blow dry your hair - without detachable arms and a stylist. No wonder Britney's gone mental and shaved all hers off! Hey! AND she's probably been reading the baby mags too. Poor kid. You gotta know when to put them down, Bitty. If I've said it once, I've said it at least twice if not three times - ok, four tops. Put. It. Down.

I understand her pain, for I too am a magazine whore. And when I say 'magazine' I do (sadly) count the Ikea catalogue. It's like the best Swedish porn shoved through my letterbox. (ooh weh) But my favourite 520-page magazine is W. It's stratospherically big. It weighs 5lbs. It makes the chunkiest weekend broadsheet piddle its Funnies Section and crawl away in insignificant, shameful, defeat. The first 120 pages (yes, one hundred and twenty) this month are just ads. Ads for things we can all afford: Gucci shoes, Prada handbags, Louis Vuitton cock rings. That kind of thing. Page after page after page of beautifully photographed, expensive accoutrement. It's delicious. Apparently, there's a couple of stories tucked away in there too. Something about Ellen Degeneres (looking like you've never seen her before, a beautiful woman) being "America's Unlikely It Girl" (page 472) and a gutsy article about my other love, Robert Downey Jr., - "The Comeback Kid". I haven't read the 5 column story on page 300 and something but I did catch the lovely black and white pics of him with his shirt off. I'm sure it's insightful. I guess they talk about his drug addiction and his secret unbridled love for me.

If you're not familiar with W magazine, it's the magazine that the movie The Devil Wears Prada wishes it was. Friviloius and shallow and conspicuously beautiful. It's everything I want to be. Vapid, beautifully lit, surrounded by Bvlgari, incredibly wealthy, and delivered by mail.

Speaking of this writing lurk... for those of you in Melbourne who like to get their anti-Oscars news via the Herald Sun newspaper, you're in luck! Watch out for an "Oscars/Hollywood preview article from a local", sometime this week. It was written by someone pretty who lives in this house. I hope to be able to write more articles for the newspaper, so if you like it - tell them. If you don't like it, I will send you my already-read backlog of W Magazines. The sheer weight of them will crush you to death. The purfume samples inside will keep you smelling Calvin-Klein-fresh for weeks after your demise.

OK, adore me. It's the way I like things done. Til next time.

Moi xxxx

And a big ol Happy Birthday to Spike's tallest Aunty - Helen! Hope you had a corker of a day hon, we love you.d-h-tiara.jpg

Tagged and released into the wild...

I've Been Tagged... and it turns out, it's not as painful as you think!

The "rules" are, once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog with "6 weird things/habits about yourself". In the end you need to choose the 6 people to be tagged and list their names.
Flasshe started this... damn him and his relentless taggery. And I say, prepare to be tagged Looby (her website should be up by then) the ever decreasing Hinty, the blonde Pooz, everyone's favourite fag bangle Amin, Sweet Banjo Randy and to mix it up, Nay Nay.

So what are the six things that are all moi? I guess if you KNOW me, you will already know these things...

1. I can burp loud enough to wake the dead. The completely dead. Seriously rigor-mortisy dead. I once burped so loudly my friend named it and handed it back to me in a bunny rug.

Once, I had to go to hospital to have a human being removed from the inside of my body! The other time I had to go to hospital to have a lightening rod inserted along my spine to prevent me from having carefree fun in a thunderstorm. (In a 'don't hide under me, I'm like a tree at the golf course' kinda way.)


3. I have a deep, almost religious case of schadenfreude. Sweet delicious schadenfreude...

4. I can not sit in/on a chair/couch/floor, "normally". I have to sit on one foot. I'm sure this will be an endearingly cute anomaly when I'm languishing in a old folks home. Nurse 1: "Come help me lift the pretzel." Nurse 2: "No, she spits."

5. I consider a 20 minute shower, short. Because, it is. Too short.

I miss Aussie meat pies, sausage rolls (my nana's recipe) and dim sims so much that when I go home, that's pretty much all I eat until I leave again.


There! Not too many surprises I'm sure. Makes you love me a little more though, doesnt it?

Now, fall over. It makes me happy!

FSY xxxx

(the pie pic is making human drool come out of my mouth...)

spike pic ticker
The darkest, funniest baby clothes online.

2006, bullet points.

Thorpie quit swimming. Australia drags itself through the death grip of the Mother of All Droughts yet somehow, people are excited about spending $50+ on a ticket to the FINA swimming finals... at the tennis centre. Melbourne's “Rod Laver Arena” (a tennis facitlity of up to 15,000 seat capacity) is having temporary swimming pools installed by “AstralPool” (FINA Official Partner - phew a partner!). Pools that will need to be filled... in the middle of a drought. 00000484_IanThorpe.jpgYes, I'll repeat that, the tennis centre is having a Olympic-sized swimming pools-PLURAL erected in the middle AND filled with what can only be described as, "Australia's most valuable and diminishing commodity" - H2O. True! The best and the brightest amongst you are correct to point out that a tennis court is not traditionally a vestibule of moist. You could (and do) go as far as to say, the bloke in the big tall chair courtside tends to shut the joint down if Mark Phillippppoooosssus so much as cries too hard over a new imagined injury. Whereas a pool - well, it pretty much needs to be chockablock with wetness for it to achieve it's goal of being - a "pool". This whole venture could only be more retarded if they were building an Olympic natatorium and filling it with bananas. Actually, that IS an event I WOULD spend $50 on. Watching Lisa Curry-Kenny swim through a vat of mashed 'narna would be worth every golden cent! I know, a very old reference, but if you can think of someone funnier you'd like to see swim in pulverised fruit, please let me know. (Thorpie does look good climbing out of oxidized Lady Fingers though, doesn't he?)

As mad-ass Saddam Hussein gets hanged, George Bush's America (in what can only be described as retaliation) hangs its 38th President, Gerald Ford. At least, that's how I've seen things through my CNN grave/funeral/deathwatch gaze. I really wanted to read this quote from Betty Ford. "Losing Gerald is not only a terrible blow to our family but also to America, however, the pills are quite a comfort." But she wouldn't say it. So I shall only report what I wanted to hear.

Britney finally comes to her senses, loses her knickers and ditches Kevin Federline. That sound you hear is women all over the world falling over themselves to line up for Bitty's slops. What a catch you are, Fed-Ex. What a catch!

TomKat sprouted the world's first fully animatronic baby(pictured right) wig.JPG a triumph for the folks at Jim Henson's Creature Shop - she's almost lifelike but the wacky Fraggle Rock wig gave her away). Nicole retaliated by marrying a country singer who couldn't keep upright on the wagon! It doesn't seem right.

George Bush's steely resolve in ANYTHING meant that that thing was about to go south. "Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job". ""Secretary Rumsfeld's energetic and steady leadership is exactly what is needed at this critical period. He has my full support, there will be no resignation." Now, if we can only get him to say, "I'm feeling fitter and healthier than ever before! I shall live forever."

You know, stuff happened. Things broke. Brilliant babies were born. Lots of comedy babies which I thought was great. Paul, Stephen, James, Frank, Greg and Rastas (was yours this year?) and of course me. All the coolest babies were born in October. Whaddya know, Spike Riley, Esq. 10/10! He continues to orbit my world. Brilliant, funny, at times, stinky but ALWAYS absolutely delishus. He refuses to work for a living, pretty much mooches around the house, draining our feeble resources and he drools on a lot of our stuff. Friggen fantastic! It is still very 'unreal' - the whole thing. There's something to be said for having a general anethstetic and then being handed a baby afterwards - it ups the surreal content, twomillionfold. His hilarious hair still sticks straight up and after recent discoveries of photographic evidence - it seems he DOES look a little like me after all.
We are just totally digging his punk ass jive. As a baby, he totally rocks.

And as it is an end of year post - people love a list. So, here it is.

Man of the Year - Spike Riley... and Johnny Depp.

Woman of the Year - My mum!

Movie of the Year - 'Little Miss Sunshine' (*note, haven't seen 'Borat' yet!)

Best & Mentalist Friend of the Year - Linda Fay Haggar.

Book for the Year - Amy Sedaris, "I Like You" A visual feast!!!!!

Faux Pas of the Year - any gem that dripped from the mouth of this sweet boy. Our next president?! (I look forward to the hanging.)


Song of the Year - yup, I can't get over it. Rich Fulcher's Rapper with a Baby!

I hope that those of you whom I love - have a great year. Those of you whom I tolerate - help me have a great year. Those of you whom I really don't care for - buy some stuff and send it to me for free.

Lotsa love,

Me, Him and our Boy xxxx

Ho Ho Ho

You're all a bunch of ladies of the night... IF you know what I mean and if you dont know what I mean I mean you're all a bunch of prostitutes, if you know what I mean and if you still dont know what I mean I mean... Hey, is that christmas pud?!


Our family Xmas card is here. Go. Smile. Enjoy.

Much love, Us xxxx

Melbourne Los Angeles

Spike RileySpike Riley